In a time where so much information flies past us everyday and super speed and we are bombarded with so much information from the moment we wake up to the moment we fall asleep, there lies a mountain of confusion about so many different concepts. It seems that the more we know, the more we question and the more we need answered. Ladies and gentlemen, we live in the information age where all the information we could ever need is readily available, yet we are more confused than ever.
Is it information overload, information overdrive, information on ice, or simply too much information that our brains undergo a process called “total, murder-suicide”; a phrase and possibly the greatest contribution to date from the movie “Bring It On” and its equally cool predecessor “Bring It On: All Or Nothing”. Do we, as people, only have a finite space to store information, and when we find ourselves in a deluge of information, we numb ourselves to it so that our minds can cope with how much we are required to process every, single day?
Anyone would attest to the universally understood truth that life in itself is complicated as it is. The dating scene and its mandatory navigation of emotional minefields are one such example.
When we consider the extra materials and baggage that we need to learn from childhood, adolescence and then adulthood, and then factor in all new ideas of social intelligence, emotional intelligence and the intelligence that gives us a way with words so that we can be both passive and aggressive at the same time, we have ourselves a whole lot of information out there that we need to ingest, digest and possibly regurgitate ad infinitum.
Whilst reading an interview by GQ Magazine with Armani about the new line of cosmetics that Giorgio Armani is in the process of releasing to the world, it struck me how much the idea of masculinity had changed. Today, the use of moisturiser by men is something that no longer has people turning their heads in curiosity whereas five years ago, something like this was not thought of. Additionally, today men everywhere can go to the gym and workout, whereas thirty years ago, any male, who wasn’t an athlete, who went to the gym, was seen as “a little bit iffy”.
Today, we are on the frontier of makeup. Most will baulk at the idea of men using makeup. Perhaps in five years time, men using makeup will be as normal as missing breakfast on the way to early morning classes, work or a social engagement and not quite as funny as the person in front of me on the tram who was tying his shoelace and just lost his balance and almost head butted my laptop with his nose.
So where will the masculine male see himself in a few years time? Perhaps he will be like Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime using Anti-Wrinkle Radiance Eye Crème or some sort of mineral foundation like you see on late night infomercials in between Jessica Simpson smiling at the camera astounding the virtues of Proactiv, and Jennifer Love Hewit acting irresistibly cute; smiling with that come-hither smile of hers that make me want to put my arms around her, throw her on my back and run through a field of daisies in the sun whilst her laughter rings across the luscious green fields.
It wasn’t until a Melbourne University student approached me after reading this column and asked for my thoughts about bodybuilders and where they all fit into the grand scheme of things that I considered where I stood. When I told my friends the idea about this monthly column, I believed that the stories of all Ann Frank and Simon Fitzgerald were almost interchangeable sans the Nazi invasion, the cupboard, the hiding and all the other small details. The column would be about life on the backdrop of bodybuilding, for at the end of the day, aren’t all television shows exactly the same but with different characters? After all, Marissa Cooper from The O.C. is living through the life of every Neighbours cast member out there. She became an alcoholic, lived in a highly dysfunctional family where her mother looked like an older sister rather than a mother, had multiple latent issues that surfaced at conveniently placed times to maintain the most excellent drive of the television series, had a quasi Romeo and Juliet love affair with the love of her life Ryan Atwood, dabbled in a little bit of lesbianism with Seth Cohen’s local badass ex-girlfriend Alex Kelly, got expelled from her high school and eventually died in a tragic car accident whilst Ryan Atwood held her in his arms shouting her name, “Marissa. Marissa! Marissa-Marissa-Marissa!!”
So how does this all fit into the masculinity? The simple and honest answer is this: I don’t know. But perhaps the certain musings here can exemplify just how complex and convoluted the issue is. When you thinks that you has the idea of masculinity or any other concept pinned down for that matter, something else happens, whether it be a speeding bus with a bomb on it or a character from the Indiana Jones movie who somehow survived a nuclear explosion by hiding into a refrigerator, that comes out of nowhere and blindsides you, forcing you to reevaluate and redefine a concept that is ever elusive and ever changing.
So next time you see a guy walk around with a new pair of Prada sunglasses with the latest Dior scent and designer knits, don’t be too quick to judge. He is not metrosexual (someone who has sex on trains), nor is he eager to embrace aspects of femininity (or what has traditionally been classified as the domain of women everywhere). He could be, in the words of the beautiful French, très cool.
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